Page 4 of N8
N8 swore those scientists never would. His secret would remain with him. Even this close group of friends only knew a very minute portion of what he was capable of, and that was how they all wanted it. That way, if the Powers That Be decided they wanted to question one of them while under the influence of whatever drugs they’d injected in them, no one would reveal anything, consciously or unconsciously, intentionally or unintentionally. The only thing he worried about now was being caught unawares, and put under before he had the chance to escape his body so he wouldn’t tell them himself.
Two days. He had at least two days before whatever hell they intended to put him through again.
He took a deep breath. “I can’t wait two days,” he confessed softly, and drained his bottle. “I’m going in tomorrow, whether she’s aware of it or not.”
Glancing up, he saw the expressions on their faces. All of them were identical.
They pitied him.
3Rel8
Cydney staredout the glass partition to watch N8 and the others file out of the room to head for dinner. Behind her, Dorsey and Bill were in conversation, discussing nothing she understood, and probably wasn’t any of her business anyway. If it was, they’d be sure to let her know. Otherwise, she was to keep quiet and do what she was told. But that didn’t stop her from having a thousand and one questions about this place. About these people she worked for. And especially about those six men and women being kept in this location.
And the one named N8.
He turned to give her one final look before exiting, and his expression tugged on her emotions. She curled her fingers into her palm. She could almost feel the thin floppy disk he’d dropped into it. The way he always handed it to her when she went by to get it. This time, though, had been different. He’d spoken to her. He’d…
He asked me out. Like on a date.
“We could have a cup of coffee, or maybe an ice cream cone.”
She’d come so close to taking him up on his offer. God knew she wanted to. She dreamed of getting to know him better, but protocols were strict about interacting with the Chimeras.
No. Stop. I can’t think of them that way. And I certainly can’t refer to them that way. According to protocols, they were “the children.”
She snorted. The children. The youngest, P8, was twenty-one years old. The oldest, G8, was twenty-eight. According to records, N8 was twenty-five. These six individuals hadn’t been children for years, but that’s what everyone referred to them as. The children. It was ludicrous.
She scanned them individually. Every one of them was unique, and none of them looked related. K8 was a true redhead, with the creamy complexion Cydney envied. F8 was petite and brunette. T8 was swarthy-looking, and looked like he would have made a good pirate back in the day. P8 was just the opposite, as blond and as blue-eyed as T8 was dark. N8 had the most common, melt-into-the-crowd features, with his light brown hair and greenish-brown eyes.
And then there was G8, whose appearance changed so vastly on a monthly basis, there was no pegging him.
“Cydney.”
She turned to see Bill gesturing for her to join them. Walking over to the desk, she waited to hear what he had to say.
“We’ve noticed N8 is showing a special interest in you,” the man told her.
A wave of panic washed through her. “I haven’t done anything to encourage him,” she hastily informed them.
“We know that,” Dorsey reassured her, flashing a smile that held no warmth or humor. “But it’s brought about a unique, shall we say,opportunityfor us to explore.”
Cydney frowned. “What do you mean?”
Bill sat up straighter in his chair. “Initially, when the Chimera project was instigated, we’d hoped the children would seek relationships among their own kind. That didn’t happen, much to our regret.”
“May I ask why?” she pressed, hoping they wouldn’t think her inquiries were out of bound.
Dorsey was blunt in her response. “Procreation. To see if any of their offspring would also carry the Chimera genes and subsequently be able to display unique abilities.” The woman’s face darkened. “But the damn children interact more like an extended family. What affection we’ve seen displayed or heard is nothing more than familial.”
“That’s where you come in,” Bill interjected. “We’ve had several assistants come and go in the past months, but you’re the first one any of the children have shown an interest in.”
“Because of N8.” There was no sense trying to dodge the issue. These people had the children wired six ways from Sunday, even in their separate apartments, including the bedroom and bathroom. She was also shocked to learn their clothing, accessories, and some of their jewelry was bugged. Why, she didn’t have a clue, and she wasn’t about to question anyone about the practice. To the people who worked here, she was a newcomer, and therefore not to be trusted. Which meant that anything she had to say about the goings on in this facility would be scrutinized, if not reported. And she’d worked too damn hard to get this gig. Her family needed the money, and she’d promised them she wouldn’t let them down.
“He asked you out, didn’t he?” Dorsey asked, even though they all knew he had.
“What are you suggesting?” she asked point-blank. “You want me to accept his offer?”
Bill rubbed the side of his nose, making his glasses bounce up and down. “We’d be willing to compensate you if it led to…well…”
